Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(68)

“Just checking to see how you’re doing today,” he said. “And brought you and your grandma something of Preacher’s for dinner.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the bag. “Is Preacher pissed?”

“Preacher hardly ever gets pissed,” Jack said. “But just for future reference, you don’t want to be around when he is. So—today’s better?”

“Yeah. I’m getting by. Trying to get a little rest.”

“Good. I want you down at the bar at 9:00 a.m. Monday morning. We have PT in Eureka,” Jack said.

“We?”

“I’m taking you. PT Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The counselor Tuesday and Thursday. Also morning.”

“You don’t have to do that….”

Jack lifted an eyebrow. “You going to call a cab? Or maybe you have another ride in mind so you don’t have to talk to me?”

Rick just looked down, frustrated with himself for wanting to hurt people so much. “Okay, thanks,” he said quietly. “I’m not real hot on that counselor idea. I told you that.”

“I know. I heard that. Just so you know, Mel is hot on it—and she found the counselor. Go ahead, tough guy—call her and talk her out of it.”

“What if I don’t call her and just refuse to go?”

“I’m taking you—I happen to think it might help. I guess you could be a stubborn fool and refuse to talk.” He shrugged. “If you decide to go that way, just listen. Maybe you’ll pick up something. By the way, what happened with you and Liz?”

His eyes popped open. “What makes you think something happened?”

“She said she saw you last night, and she doesn’t seem to be doing real well. I asked her. She said she can’t talk about it.”

Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t tell Jack he’d treated her the way he had. He just couldn’t handle the look he’d see in Jack’s eyes. If he’d learned anything, Jack’s opinion of how men should treat women was firm—they were to be handled with the greatest of respect and care. He could tell Jack he’d practically raped her, then told her to go away and leave him alone, and although Jack wouldn’t give up on him, he’d be completely ashamed of him. Rick decided it wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t bear the added guilt. “I can’t talk about it either,” he said.

Jack was silent for a moment. “Good thing we have that appointment with the counselor. You can tell him.”

Don’t count on it, Rick thought.

On Tuesday morning, Jack dropped Rick at a modest home in Grace Valley and said he’d wait out Rick’s counseling session at the café in town. Rick stood at the curb and stared at the house for a minute or so—but Jack just drove off. Finally, he went to the door of a remodeled garage that had a sign by it. Jerry Powell, followed by a bunch of letters, including PhD When he knocked, a man shouted, “Come on in.”

He found himself in a small waiting room that was, thankfully, empty. There was a door to another room and presently a tall, spindly man with a sharp nose and thin hair that flopped onto his forehead appeared there. He smiled. “You must be Rick.”

“And you must be the counselor.”

Jerry laughed. “Come on back.”

Rick slowly followed while Jerry waited at the door. He indicated a couple of chairs facing each other and then he closed the door. “I’m not expecting clients right now, but I close the door in case anyone wanders into the waiting room. This room is soundproofed for our privacy.”

Rick sat. Between the chairs, a small table bore a box of tissues. That was for when he broke down and cried like a girl.

Before sitting, Jerry offered his hand. “Jerry Powell, Rick. It’s nice to meet you. And even though you might be tired of hearing it, thank you for the service you perform on behalf of our country. Not only do I appreciate it, I’m deeply touched and personally indebted to you.”

Rick was surprised. He tilted his head. Actually, he hadn’t heard that. Maybe if he’d gone to his own welcome-home party at the bar, he might have. But instead of saying thank-you, he said, “Just so you know, I don’t want to be here.”

Jerry actually smiled. “Which puts you in the majority. I do some work for the county and from time to time a junior-high or high-school student, in trouble at school, comes my way as part of penance. A way of not getting expelled. If you think they want to be here…”

“What happened to me wasn’t high-school stuff.”

Jerry sobered. “I’m aware of that.” He let that go a beat. “Well, I should explain—I’ve never counseled a disabled veteran before. I’ve had vets, I’ve had amputees, I’ve counseled lots of people with disabilities, but I’ve never counseled a person trying to adjust to civilian life after a war injury.”

“Maybe you don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Or maybe we’ll learn from each other,” he said easily, not in the least intimidated by Rick’s hostile nature. “I’ll try to keep up. Anywhere in particular you’d like to start?”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me—I’d rather not do this at all.”

“Okay, I’ll start. I’ve been in Grace Valley about ten years now. There’s a rumor going around that I claim to have gone on a ride in a spaceship with aliens.” He shrugged. “It’s the absolute truth—I really did. I swear. I don’t even care that hardly anyone buys it—it happened to me. Screwed me up pretty good for a while. I’ll make a deal—you tell me some of the stuff that’s giving you trouble. I’ll tell you about the spaceship.”